True to her word, Narcissa did manage to convince Lucius to hear me out before we dueled. Well, it wasn't a duel per say, more like a moment I let my guard down and Lucius took the opening to send a tickling charm my way.
How I loathe the man for using such a ridiculous charm to humiliate me! Bad enough I was apologizing, but I would have rather been rolling on the floor with tears of pain rather than tears of laughter.
When he finally did see it fit to release me from my punishment, he poured a drink like so many times before and we commenced to our usual spots to catch up. I should have known the first words out of his mouth would be questions about the state of my marriage rather than arrogantly gloating over his own. Tired and in no mood for more embarrassment, I relayed the entire story of her revenge plot for my assumed infidelity.
"And I thought my marriage was fucked up," Lucius mutters from behind his glass.
"Thanks for your astounding assessment, but I did come to that conclusion all on my own," I reply sardonically. He has the good grace to look apologetic for his comment, but I just shrug.
"So what are you going to do now?" It is a simple question, but the answer is not so simple.
"She's been adequately punished," I remind him. "A fidelity ring will ensure Potter keeps his filthy hands to himself and I am quite sure the guilt was overwhelming when she discovered I have been faithful since day one."
"Good Godfric," Lucius exclaims in shock. "I ask what you are going to do in your relationship and you immediately speak of punishment? Will you ever think of the girl as anything more than a child or a student?"
"Hard to think of her as a child when I remember the very adult body basking in the afterglow of an orgasm," I quip back. He presses his lips together in exasperation, so I add under my breath, "The old Lucius would enjoy my crass response."
"But you admit that you do see her differently," he ignores my remark. "Doesn't that count for something?"
"Just because I can confirm she is indeed a woman does not mean anything has changed," I argue. "I have taught hundreds of children over the years and at some point, they all become less childlike. There are still dynamics between us that are hard to overlook."
"Oh I bet," he drawls. I glare back and he wisely bite the next part of whatever sarcastic comment was forming.
"Why don't we discuss your marriage?" I suggest. "Narcissa gave me one version and now I'd like to hear yours."
"However she told it is exactly how it happened," he answers with a smug smile. "Besides we both know my sappy version is likely to make your weak stomach churn."
"Contrary to popular belief, I am happy that you two have taken proper steps in the right direction," I admit. "I wouldn't begrudge my two best friends a life of happiness just because my own marriage is an abyss of misery."
"Well, if I could slip you that potion you brewed for Narcissa, you might find my advice worthwhile," he retorts. I start to comment how we had agreed to change topics, but he cuts me off. "Haven't you wondered what it might be like to let your prejudices fall away and try to form some sort of relationship with her that does not involve you as an authoritarian figure and her as a subordinate? I'm not even talking about a romantic relationship. A friendship, an acquaintance, I'll even go so far as to suggest pen pals."
"The possibility may have been there before, but her actions have changed everything," I say chucking my glass on the end table with a loud clink. "Just like I told you when you complained about Narcissa shutting down your attempts, she cannot be forced to listen to reason. We both saw how drugging your wife was not the most brilliant of our ideas, so what makes you think my wife is any different?"
"I am not suggesting any such thing," Lucius denies hastily. "I am merely suggesting that you take your own advice for once in your bloody life and wait for her to open up to you. There is nothing wrong with having something more with her. You do not teach her anymore and even if you did, she only has a few months left at Hogwarts as a student. Whatever is holding you back from pursuing a simple friendship is starting to become immature and quite frankly irritating. Pull your head out of your arse and look at the woman before you!"
"Rekindling your dead marriage has sure turned you into a hopelessly romantic, cheeky bastard," I snipe back. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say spewing all this shite about love makes you Albus Dumbledore reincarnated. Next you'll be suggesting I take a love potion and woo her."
"You are a damned fool sometimes," he shakes his head in defeat. As he runs his fingers through his platinum locks, he sets his glass on the table and leans toward me. "You are right that I am the last person to give advice on the proper workings of a marriage. However, as someone who nearly lost the most amazing woman I have ever met, I do have some ground to stand on when I say that I didn't know what I had until it was almost too late."
"There is too much conflict between us," I point out. "Too much distrust, too much hatred, too much betrayal, too much darkness."
"Every great relationship starts from a place of conflict," he quotes. "But the longer you refuse to acknowledge the possibility that you could be something more than enemies, the longer the conflict will continue and the worse it will be. I think you have both forgotten that the real enemy here is the Ministry and their laws. Perhaps a romantic relationship is not in the tea leaves for you both, but I can't imagine what would be so terrible about a friendship."
I lean back in my chair. Friendships are based on trust and honesty and common interests. No, perhaps that is not true. Minerva and I have been friends for years despite the fact that we share no common interests and very little trust up until recently. I shared more common ground with Lucius, but there was some trust and virtually no honesty until now. Even my friendship with Narcissa has been based on less of those traits and due more to the fact that she was married to Lucius, but we do somehow consider ourselves good friends today. Are the laws of friendship so fluid?
"I don't know," I finally answer back. "There is just too many variables and too many problems to solve. I'd rather just leave it."
Lucius takes the hint and picks up his glass again. We sit in silence for a bit until he breaks it by quietly saying, "Do what you feel is right, but just remember that nothing in your marriage has worked so far. I was just suggesting that maybe you rethink your strategy."
The afternoon continues with nothing more than idle prattle on various business endeavors Lucius is making and the latest news of Draco's life with his new wife and new job at Gringotts. I listen with interest, but I also replay our conversation in the back of my mind.
Although it vexes me to admit it, there is truth in his statement. The only thing that seemed to work between me and the girl was that short time period in which we shared dinner in the evenings. It wasn't happy, but it wasn't miserable either. It just was.
But like I told him, there is no point in considering a "friendship" when the conflict is too overwhelming. There are hundred problems between us and not enough patience. I can acknowledge that I want us to be on more civil grounds. I can even acknowledge that an equal relationship in which we both contribute is far easier to work with than constantly creating rules and administering punishment.
The only question now becomes how to get from here to there in the most logical and beneficial steps possible. Each problem solved is a stepping stone to creating such a utopia, so I know I need to start by addressing our most recent conversation.
As if by some twist of fate, she is waiting for me as soon as I step from the Floo.
I check the clock on the mantle again for the hundredth time as I wait on the couch. Snape told Narcissa he would be at the Malfoys, but there is no telling when he will be back. I suppose his secrecy is just another way of punishing me.
Hermione has been so understanding the last few weeks that I almost didn't want to tell her about my latest argument with Snape. There is only so many times I can hear her say, "I told you so," before I turn my wand on her. Fortunately, she refrained from saying it, but instead became insistent that I should apologize to him. We argued for the better part of the afternoon until I finally agreed to think about it.
Truthfully, she is right. I do owe him an apology, but humiliating myself by begging for forgiveness is not exactly comforting. An apology would only warrant his typical sneer with some snide comment to belittle what dignity I have left. The only problem with not apologizing is waiting for the guilt to eat me alive.
My parents didn't raise me to be that way, so I can only imagine what their reaction would be if they ever found out. Hermione and Ron swear they will never tell, but there is no guarantee that Snape won't blackmail me with it or that Harry won't let it slip. Harry was obviously shocked when I showed him my ring. He tried to argue that we could just be together in every other way, but I refused. I think trying to maintain our friendship after I got married was just one more bad decision that led to this mistake, so I told him we needed to go our separate ways once and for all.
Since that talk with Harry, I have questioned if that was the right thing to do. He was crushed and I was upset. It was like receiving the letter from the Ministry all over again, except this time I was the one who fucked up. My heart aches for him still, but I have been trying to convince myself it was for the best.
Finding out Snape was not cheating on me, just adds to the weight of my guilt and the confirmation that I have truly fucked up. If the only way to ease my conscious is to apologize, then so be it. It can't possibly make me feel any worse, can it?
The Floo finally flares green and Snape steps through with an elegance I have never been able to master. He looks surprised to see me, but the expression is quickly masked by is usual stoney countenance. I take a deep breath.
"Can I talk to you for a minute?" In my own ears, I can hear how weak and unsure I sound. He doesn't respond so I steady my nerves and try again. "If you are not too busy, I just wanted to talk to you about the other day."
Snape keeps his eyes locked on mine and I am sure he is reading my mind. I push the temptation to look away in the hope that he can see my sincerity.
"What about the other day?" He folds his arms and leans against the mantle.
"I didn't get a chance to apologize," I reply.
"And exactly what are you going to apologize for?" His voice is low and dangerous, but it is nothing I don't deserve. "For disrespecting me and my home? For accusing me of such low, cowardly behavior? For taking revenge upon a sin I did not commit? Are you truly sorry for your behavior or are you just sorry you were caught?"
"Yes. I mean, for all of it," I stumble over my words feebly. His eyebrows raise, so I take a deep breath to steady my thoughts. "What I mean is that I am sorry for everything. I disrespected you and your home and accused you unjustly. I was stupid and immature and I don't deserve to have your forgiveness. But I need to tell you I am sorry because you deserve an apology."
I wait for him to speak, but he just stands there staring back with his unchanged face. His eyes don't even blink. I am sure there is some nasty retort coming, some insult, some cruel remark to add to my guilt, but none comes. Just when I think he is going to reach for his wand to hex me, he clears his throat.
"Obviously, this is nothing more than an attempt to relieve the guilt on your own conscience which will continue to remain sullied until you come to terms with your actions. Therefore, your apology is neither wanted nor necessary, and even if it were, your words have no influence on the events of the past and cause your stuttering speech to be excessively long winded when a few words would have adequately conveyed your remorse," he drones in a cold tone.
I feel my cheeks burn in anger and humiliation, but I drop my head rather than argue. Mentally, I kick myself for foolishly believing an attempted apology would be received with anything other than disdain.
"However," he says louder, but somehow in a more gentle voice, "if the pair of us are to move past this incident, I have no other choice but to accept it."
"Really?" As shocked as I am, I can't help but sound slightly hopeful as well. Although I should be more suspicious that he is mocking or belittling me, I study his face for any sign of insincerity. His normally dark eyes are less narrowed, giving the impression of a lessened tension between us.
"Miss Weasley, I am not in a habit of saying things that I do not mean," he sighs. "The events over the last few weeks have proven that we cannot continue to be at odds with each other. I have come to the realization that changes need to be made and they need to be made immediately."
"What kind of changes?" The momentary relief of him accepting my apology disappears as my stomach lurches. Only he can take a sincere moment and turn into some kind of blackmail. I can only imagine what new rules he is going to come up with now.
"I believe that the few meals we shared at the beginning of our marriage were an example of the type of civility we should be able to show one another. There seemed to be no animosity at that time as well as the opportunity for us to learn about one another. Therefore, I think it would be in our best interest to resume them, preferably several times a week," he states with clinical accuracy.
"Dinner?" I sound completely daft as the word leaves my mouth.
"That would be the meals I was referring to," he answers. I continue to stare dumbly as he adds, "I am well aware that the idea sounds ridiculous, but I would not suggest such a tedious experiment if I did not believe there were some merit behind my suggestion."
The urge to pinch myself suddenly crosses my mind as I cut through his own "excessively long winded" speech and realize he is not demanding I have dinner with him. The man just suggested we eat dinner together and is now waiting for my response.
"Yes. I mean, I think it would a good idea as well," I admit. He tilts his head slightly in acceptance.
"As the Head of my House, I am required to be present in the Great Hall for the majority of my meals, so I think it would be easiest to share evening meals on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays." He leaves no room for argument, but I have no reason to anyway. Three meals a week doesn't seem so bad, so I nod back. "I believe our last classes end around six so a dinner at seven should suffice," he adds as an afterthought.
"Okay," I say quietly.
There is an awkward silence between us as we both decide what to do next. Shifting on his feet, he gives a nod. "If that is all Miss Weasley, then I will see you later at ten." He starts to leave and I can't help but call out to him.
"Sir?" Snape stops in his tracks and raises his eyebrows. Gathering my courage, I look him square in the eye and ask, "Do you really forgive me? For everything?"
"As I said before, your guilt is a creation of your own mind. However, I learned a long time ago that forgiveness is a free commodity that I have no right to withhold as long as there is sincerity."
"So you aren't going to hold it against me?"
"Do not mistake forgiveness for trust," he warns, but not harshly. "You have a long way to go to earn a little if any of my trust."
I look down in shame as I realize the stupidity of my assumption as he continues to exit the room. Of course he is going to wait until sometime in the future to bring up my mistake. This is the same man who held his grudge against Harry's father and godfather for nearly thirty years.
Just as he passes me on the couch, he stops momentarily and says in a low voice, "Although, I believe I have the equally tedious task of earning your trust as well." Without another word or a second look in my direction, he sweeps out of the room.
I'm not sure if Snape intended to, but his last comment gives me some hope that things might be looking up again. Maybe there is a chance that my guilt will subside over time.
Needless to say, something shifted once again that night as well. Since admitting to Lucius how difficult it is to physically see her as a child, I felt a stirring in the depths of my mind. Perhaps it is the animalist instinct to mark what is mine that has started hinting at changing the way we do perform the act. There was even a slight hesitation on my part before we started last time in which I contemplated not taking the arousal potion and even foregoing the quick release potion as well.
It took me nearly two whole minutes of weighing the pros and cons in my mind to finally come to the realization that one civil conversation with the girl does not a relationship make. There is still too much negative history between us that would put me at too much risk for embarrassment. Although it would be nice to not have to brew those two potions so often, they will continue to be part of my regiment until I can guarantee a successful outcome otherwise.
But as I turned off the light and moved to the bed that night, I found myself wondering what she was thinking as I released my erection and pushed inside her. We have had sex a few times since she was with Potter, but her resignation was almost worse than her anxiety. Now that we have had a conversation that didn't end in another argument, I wonder if her resignation has turned into curiosity. Surely, now that she has experienced the enjoyable side of sex, she realizes how miserable this is for me as well.
She had used the lubrication again which wasn't really a surprise, but a little bit of a blow to my self-esteem. Thinking about the fact that she was so easily aroused by Potter made me glad I had a potion to keep my erection but also taunted me with the fact that even if we are on decent terms with each other this is still the worst intercourse I have ever had. Again, the animalistic instinct hissed at me to show her that I was more than capable of creating pleasure in a loveless duty.
To test myself, I tried to hold back my orgasm and focus on her reactions. The tension of her body is always noticeable, even though I don't touch her. However, as I kept my rhythm at a steady pace I noticed she matched it by flexing her inner walls. She did not lift her hips to meet mine and I certainly didn't adjust my angle to hit her most pleasurable zones, but it still left the feeling that there was something more to be desired.
Before I could fully decide to experiment with trying to seek pleasure, the pain shot through my body as my climax demanded release. Unable to focus on anything else, I let go and shot my seed with the last few thrusts. As my body regained strength, I couldn't help but wonder what it would have been like to finish with her tight quim muscles milking my cock as well.
I caught my breath and silently cursed myself for thinking such stupid and repulsive thoughts. Just as I do everytime, I quickly pulled out of her and practically ran to the bathroom. When I was finally safe in the shower, my senses seemed to reappear as well, reprimanding me for my foolish curiosity. In my haste to put us down the right path, I nearly got ahead of myself with my selfish need to stop these unfulfilling climaxes.
It wasn't until I was back in my room ready for bed that something did click into place. The girl was by no means ugly or undesirable and I am a man who does need the occasional sexual release. Since my options are limited to pleasure by my hand or the girl, I have subconsciously decided she is the better choice.
While one side of me is disgusted for being a sick mixture of a lecherous old man and a randy hormonal teenager, the other side of me argues that I have already come to the conclusion that she is not a child and in a few months down the road, she will no longer be considered a student of Hogwarts. It was only hours ago that I admitted to Lucius that a friendship is entirely possible, so is my mind now jumping into the future holding some kind of romantic notions as well?
Scoffing into the darkness, I roll on my side. No, a simple friendship is one thing, but to become something like "Friends with Benefits" or even just "Fuck Buddies" is stretching the limits. I mentally kick myself as Minerva's words about the fidelity rings come floating back to me. In my haste, I did permanently force myself to remain monogamous. Therefore, my mind is only coming to the only logical conclusion possible: twenty years of dissatisfying, unpleasurable sex or twenty years of having orgasms that I could actually enjoy.
Unwilling to dissect the issue further, I fell into sleep with the knowledge that my own lustful brain might have just added another volatile ingredient into an already unstable cauldron.
